Never Let Me Go
by lesnympheas
Summary: Kurt had been determining the trajectory of a nine millimeter, which had kept him from hearing his cellphone ringing. He had twelve missed calls, all from Diane. (Kurt's POV)


**A/N: Twitter conversations can really inspire me. This one is for _Stine_, you the real MVP. This is probably OOC. There's a total of three f-bombs. Un-betaed so don't expect quality and I have only written crack fics before so this might have some unwilling crack. I didn't choose the crack!fic life, it chose me.**

Kurt lay on their bed numb, the day had drained all his energy; yet he couldn't fall asleep. He stared at the ceiling, examining every line he could find as if by understanding those patterns he could trace a path through the events of that afternoon and meet clarity. He closed his eyes.

Kurt had been determining the trajectory of a nine millimeter, which had kept him from hearing his cellphone ringing. He had twelve missed calls, all from Diane. He immediately grabbed the phone and returned the call. He paced through the kitchen as the line rang. One ring, he reached the other end of the room. Two rings, he stopped at the counter and grabbed the border with his left hand, his knuckles turning white. Three rings, he almost growled in frustration. Diane had only once called him in the middle of the day, the day the court shooting had happened. What made her call him _twelve_ times? Four rings, he began walking towards the door. Five rings, he grabbed his coat as he passed through the living room, and then he stopped abruptly.

"Kurt?" He dropped his coat. She pronounced his name slowly, her voice carrying the weight of the turmoil.

"Yes. What happened?" He pondered whether if he should receive the news standing up or sitting down. He glanced at the couch, he moved the jacket and sat down.

"I'm not sure" He shifted and decided he had made the wrong decision, he needed to move. He stood up. "I might get disbarred" The words sank him back into the couch.

"What?" He took a moment to absorb the words. _Diane Lockhart getting disbarred_. A woman so passionate, dedicated and careful; those words made no sense. He listened to the other end of the line, she inhaled deeply and let out a sigh filled with sorrow.

"I might go to jail" Her voice quivered, but she steadied herself again by inhaling deeply. His nervous fidgeting was converted to a load that inhibited him from raising his gaze from his shoes. He tried breathing the way his wife was doing. _Jail._ _What had she done?_ "I'm not… I'm not even sure if I can talk to you about this" Her mind was clouded with what David Lee had said. She shouldn't be talking about this.

"Spousal privilege" He rushed to answer.

"Right" Diane let out another sigh. He was trying to keep a cold head, that's why she had called him. It was not only to share the god-awful tidings, but because she had been reduced to incomplete lines of thoughts and contained sobs. If someone could help her gather the scattered pieces it was her husband. "I unintentionally submitted false evidence in Cary's case" _Fuck. _He had seen her work her hardest on that case. Diane had put all the business issues behind her, because she felt protective of the younger man. Still, no matter how much she cared for him, Diane wouldn't go to the extension of committing a crime.

"Unintentionally?" He analyzed the sentence.

"I didn't know it was fake." _Of course_. He exhaled, he moved his hand through his hair as he allowed his head to fall over the back of the couch.

"Then it's not your fault, you were unaware-"

"It doesn't matter under strict liability." He brought his torso forth again and placed his elbow on his knee as he contemplated his shoes again. His hand covered his mouth momentarily. He wasn't absorbing the situation properly. He couldn't tell her everything was going to be ok. He couldn't hold her hand. He couldn't do anything. _Fuck_. He glanced at his jacket again.

"I will be there in an hour" He grabbed it.

"No. I need to go to the police review board" He let go slowly of the fabric. She had to solve this on her own. He nodded, but his gut told him he shouldn't listen to her. He should ignore her, he should run to her just like he had done when she called him from the hospital. Her respiration quivered as she let out one soft sob.

"Diane. I'm here" He tried to comfort her. It dawned on him that she was gathering strength to confront the board. It's all he could do for now.

"Yes" She exhaled rapidly and cleared her throat. He could imagine she was wiping whatever trace their talk had left on her cheeks. "I have to go." She was probably standing up, arranging her clothes and fixing her posture.

"I'll be home" He heard another deep breath. "I love you" he whispered to the disconnected line.

He almost smiled, he had thought it couldn't get worse than that phone call. He opened his eyes and focused them on the person lying on his chest. He slowly moved his hand from the end of her spine to the nape of her neck. She squirmed closer. He envied her for being able to sleep, then again she was the one at battle.

He had tried focusing on work again, but after misfiring and almost knocking one of his instruments over, he decided it was not going to do him any good. He decided it was time to drive home. He found it ironic that all his life he had neglected Chicago, but he had found home there. It had little to do with the geography and all to do with the person he shared the apartment with. His smile vanished as a pang invaded his heart. The 40-mile drive maintained the bittersweet sensation in the air. He arrived and stood silently at the threshold for some minutes, not quite knowing what was the next step to take. Stepping forward, moving ahead, going in; of course. But _what_ was ahead?

He had tried cooking, a nice dinner too. Diane would have been put through enough stress by the time she could indulge in his _ravioli alla panna e prosciutto_. He boiled the water, added salt, poured in the pasta and stirred it faintly. Until he lost track of time and managed to burn the pasta. _Fuck_. He repeated the process and was able to not overcook it. He prepared the sauce, but after tasting it he knew he had added too much salt. He gave up, he wasn't going to achieve the quality he wanted in the dish. He picked up the phone to order delivery but he impulsively dialed Diane's number. He waited six rings before hanging up. Nothing was going like he wanted it to.

He had handled to place an order in one of Diane's favorite Italian restaurants. He put a bottle of white wine on the fridge. He turned on the TV and casually listen to the news and some ridiculous comedy show that portrayed a woman being president of the US. He smirked as he remembered how Diane had gleefully screamed when she found out Hilary was running in 2016, he was still a hardcore republican, but her enthusiasm was contagious. He buried his face in his hands, he had to stop his train of thought, yet again.

He had waited on the couch, so the instance she walked in he could get up and hold her. He heard her searching for her keys. He walked and opened the door. She thanked him with her eyes, she came in, dropped her bag on the floor, and wrapped her arms around him. He buried his nose in her hair and they both exhaled deeply. They were finally with the other. By the hug he could tell the problem was not yet resolved, he waited for her to part their embrace. She moved her hand to his cheek and placed her forehead against his. He suggested dinner and talking afterwards, she nodded and he guided her to the kitchen by the hand.

She had toyed with the food and had taken three or four sips of wine. She broke the news about the deal Miss Pine had offered her. She let out one of her contained whimpers, Kurt reached for her hand, while the other went to his mustache. His blood drained from his face. _Jail or death. Fuck. _

As he remembered he reached for her hand. Her sleepy figure made it appear like she hadn't been placed between the sword and the wall.

"So, it's all Kalinda's fault". They had moved their conversation to the living room. He had heard the case's details. She had kept some physical distance and was sitting at the other end of the sofa.

"That's not what I said" She muttered and put down her glass of wine to emphasize the sentence.

"She faked the metadata, she is the one responsible for-"

"She wasn't planning on using it anymore, I retrieved it and presented it to court." Kurt looked at her straight-faced. He knew she had high ethical values, but taking full responsibility for mistakes she had nothing to do with? He put his glass down too.

"I still fail to see how it's not her fault. The only reason you are facing prison or getting killed by a drug lord is because she faked evidence". He leaned forward. He had to use those words for Diane to see the dimensions of the deck of cards she had in her hands.

"No! The only reason I'm having to handle all this trouble is because the SA's office won't give up on trying to capture Bishop, even though they know what happens to the people that get involved in the trial." Diane had been keeping her composure, she hadn't broken, all her emotions repressed and contained. It helped her stay focused and think rationally. But her emotions were crawling out, irritation being the most immediate.

"But can't you see? The SA's office could not be putting you in this situation if it wasn't for Kalinda!" She didn't understand what Kurt was trying to do by trying to point fingers, placing the blame in one person or the other wouldn't get her out of this situation. She separated her back from the seat and recaptured her boss demeanor.

"No, I wouldn't be in this mess if the SA wasn't coveting Bishop's head" She spoke slowly, her jaw clenching, her eyes piercing.

"But Kalinda-"

"Stop it! We were just trying to save a dear friend" She snapped. _Enough_. She stood up and turned to leave. He followed.

"Well, that sure backfired, didn't it?" His response shot through Diane's spine. _Enough_. Her hands fell to her stomach as her back clenched forward. He heard her façade shattering, sob after sob. He hurried to her side and held her against him. She welcomed the embrace and continued discharging all the tension from the day. She hid her face in his neck, damping his collar. He gripped her tighter.

"I'm sorry." For pushing her, for misunderstanding, for the situation, for being useless. He had forced her into unwinding her feelings, but as he tried to comfort her he realized, he couldn't do more.

"Kurt, I'm so scared." Her respiration still unstable.

"I know" He was just as afraid. He traced his hand through her hair gently. "I'm sorry. I needed to pin the blame in somebody"

"I know" She raised her head to look into his eyes and smiled sweetly. He wiped with his thumb some of the smudged make-up in her cheeks. "I love you." He said moved by the sight. He pulled her in once more.

"I love you too." Her words lost against his chest.

He had been able to convince her to take a relaxing bath and get her early to bed. Now, he lay there, not having control over the torrent of tormenting images that rummaged his brain. He squeezed her hand. He didn't want to lose her, not one more time, not ever. Yet he couldn't find a solution. All the scenarios he reviewed were devastating. He inhaled and focused on feeling her heartbeat. It was not his fight but he would be there. And in the middle of all the negativity, he remembered _Diane Lockhart never gave up and neither did he_.


End file.
